Page 51 of Royal Darling
I stall. “Right now?”
“Yeah. First thing in the morning.”
I don’t move. It’s not that I’m afraid of a pregnancy. I would welcome a child once I got over the shock. I’m just afraid it will be the end of me and Jackson. We have eleven more days together, but he might be so spooked, he takes off, ring or no ring.
“Why’re you not moving?” he asks.
I fake a yawn. “I’m tired.”
Next thing I know, he’s got me over his shoulder, one hand on my bottom, walking us toward the bathroom.
I give his bottom a pat. “I like when you go caveman on me. No one has ever manhandled me the way you do.”
“That’s because I pretend you’re a regular person, not an untouchable royal. That’s going to bite me in the arse.”
I bite his arse for that.
“Ow!” He swats my arse in retaliation, and I laugh.
He sets me down in the bathroom, grabs the pregnancy test hidden under the cabinet, and hands it to me. “Pee on this.”
My jaw drops. “Pee on this? Could you be more crass?”
“Yeah. Pee on this stick while I watch, and tell me if you’re up the duff.”
I take the test from him. “Get out.”
“Five minutes.” He leaves.
I shut the door and lock it.
His voice carries through the door. “Hurry up. I need to know.”
Geez, no pressure. I don’t know if I can pee with him standing on the other side of the door listening. “Go away!”
“Are you pee-shy, babe?”
I’ve never heard the term, but it seems that I am. “Yes. And I need a sweater. A jumper,” I amend for his British speak. “It’s chilly in here.”
A few moments later, he knocks on the door. I open it and he shoves my sweater at me. “Run the water. I’m going to play guitar.”
“Thank you.”
I pull on the soft sweater, run the water in the sink, take a small paper cup, and help myself to several drinks to make this go easier. I can hear him playing. He’s not singing along, probably because he’s listening to me. So I sing. It’s the song he taught me at my first lesson, “House of the Rising Sun.”
I finish singing and get quiet. I want to hear him.
He starts playing one of his new songs. I listen and think about what our child would be like, raised with music. Two musical parents would likely produce musical children. A lovely musical family. What if?
I lean against the sink and listen to more songs. It’s easy to get lost in the music when Jackson plays. Finally, I get down to business, reading the directions and then taking the test.
I set it on the back of the toilet and count, my eyes never leaving the stick. Yes or no, stay or go? I don’t know if Jackson will stay if it’s positive. He was very ambivalent about it. He said he never wanted to be a family man. I don’t need him to be, but deep down I would like him to be. I would like to have a future with him. Who knew that three weeks ago stumbling across his houseboat would lead me to this moment?
Time’s up. Negative.
I’m both relieved and let down. Silly. I’m young. There’s plenty of time for children in the future.
I open the door, and he’s right there. I hold up the stick. “Not pregnant.”
